


Reverie

by karasunovolleygays



Series: Valentine's Kisses 2020 [50]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, General Thirst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunovolleygays/pseuds/karasunovolleygays
Summary: It's a Sunday morning in which neither of them have anywhere to be other than together.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio
Series: Valentine's Kisses 2020 [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589239
Comments: 4
Kudos: 87
Collections: non-karasuno kageships





	Reverie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jadehqknb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadehqknb/gifts).

> This was written for my 2020 Valentine's Kisses: 50. A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck. I saved it for white day for funsies!

Hajime wakes to the rhythmic hum of the treadmill in the living room, accompanied by a tattoo of light, even footfalls. Bleary eyes gauge the time from his alarm clock as half past six. “Jesus,” he grumbles, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes to force himself awake. “Doesn’t he ever sleep?”

Wild haired and yawning, he stumbles out of their bedroom in search of caffeine. As he expects, a shirtless Tobio is running on the treadmill with his headphones on, eyes closed and lips moving as he noiselessly talks to himself. 

What he is saying when he does that, Hajime has never been able to figure out. At first, he had thought Tobio was just quietly singing along until Hajime had spotted him doing it without the headphones. His best guess is Tobio is working on some master plan to win his team the championship. 

The thought makes him chuckle as he pours his coffee. He wouldn’t recognize Tobio if he didn’t have volleyballs bouncing around his head at all times. So Hajime does what he always does: sits on the couch sipping from his mug and just watches.

Tobio is as beautiful as ever. His twenties have been kind to his physique. Lean limbs have filled out with lithe muscles, and his youthful round cheeks have given way to a strong jaw that looks damn good with the day’s growth on it undisturbed by Tobio’s morning ablutions.

It’s Sunday, so Hajime doesn’t have school and Tobio doesn’t have practice. The entire day is theirs to do whatever they like, a rare slice of time together. Watching Tobio’s hard chest glisten with a fine sheen of perspiration isn’t a bad start, Hajime muses as he observes with fingers wrapped around the warm mug.

It’s almost five minutes before Tobio notices Hajime’s presence, and he powers down the treadmill. His headphones hang from the handle of the machine as he towels away his well-earned sweat. “You should’ve told me you were up.”

“Nah.” Hajime nudges over to make room for Tobio on the couch, giving him a crooked smile. “I kinda like seeing you in your own little world. It’s cute.”

Tobio has no idea what he means — he usually doesn’t when Hajime says something he does is cute or quirky or whatever — but he slumps against Hajime’s side nonetheless. Their hands find each other while Hajime lifts his mug to Tobio’s lips. “You up for breakfast yet?”

After he sips Hajime’s coffee, Tobio groans. “You know me. I’m always hungry.” Yet neither of them make a move to get up. Instead, Tobio sinks further under Hajime’s arm, confiscating the entire coffee mug not long after. 

Finally, Tobio’s growling stomach chases them off the couch, and the two of them move around the kitchen in tandem as they get a proper start on the day. Tobio mans the blender to make protein shakes — strawberry because they both hate the vanilla kind — while Hajime scares up some pork fried rice from the previous night’s leftovers.

The dishes make it into the sink, but they go unnoticed. Hajime can barely even focus when Tobio’s hands slip around his waist from behind and slide under his shirt. His fingers are warm like always, the effort-roughened pads rasping pleasantly against Hajime’s skin.

“Who says you can’t have dessert after breakfast,” Hajime murmurs, eyes closed as Tobio’s fingers rove over his chest. 

The tips of Tobio’s fingers dig into the taut muscles of Hajime’s pecs. “Nobody worth listening to,” he murmurs, warm breath tickling Hajime’s ear. 

“Fuck,” hisses Hajime. Grabbing Tobio’s thighs, he commands, “Let’s get in bed before we end up doing it in the kitchen. Again.”

Hajime yelps when Tobio sweeps him off his feet, stealing a kiss until he deposits Hajime onto their bed with a hearty bounce. “You’re mine now.”

The words elicit a shiver of delight from Hajime. Tobio doesn’t take charge in their relationship often — it’s almost never necessary anyway — and he rare calls the shots in the bedroom. He’s always been satisfied with Hajime’s directions. Hell, they _ both _ are.

This new thread of steel in Tobio’s tone, much more reminiscent of his persona on the volleyball court, emanates authority. Hajime can’t wait to see how it plays out. Their sex is good across the board, but this little change-up excites his every nerve.

Tobio grips the ankles of Hajime’s sweatpants and wrenches them off, leaving his lower half exposed. His cock is already hardening, and he can’t help but moan when he sees Tobio lick his lips. “Fuck, babe. You sure know how to ruin a guy.”

In the fifteen years they’ve known each other, Tobio has never smirked at Hajime, but he does it here. Hajime might even go so far as to call it wicked. 

Crawling from the foot of the bed, Tobio looms over him with dark eyes that never move away from Hajime’s gaze as his mouth sinks down on Hajime’s length. 

It takes every scrap of willpower he has not to screw his eyes shut at the feeling, but Hajime doesn’t. He plays along with the game, being eye-fucked by Tobio while busy lips do the rest.

Hajime’s fingers slide into Tobio’s hair, fisting a handful of it until he feels Tobio growl around his girth. “God you are gorgeous,” he croaks before he comes.

Tobio’s mouth pulls away, and Hajime almost whines at the loss until Tobio crushes their lips together for a harsh, hungry kiss. Roaming fingers tug at the hem of Hajime’s t-shirt, and they part just long enough for Tobio to peel it off. The barrier of Tobio’s basketball shorts and boxer-briefs still remains, and Hajime claws at the waistbands of both impatiently. 

Finally, Tobio moves to strip away the last vestiges of distance between them. He straddles Hajime’s lap, and the feeling of their cocks pressed together makes Hajime dizzy. “God, fuck.” Not eloquent or romantic, but they’re the only words he can eke out with Tobio’s smoldering eyes and chiseled muscle looming over him. Hajime’s already hardening again at the sight.

They don’t discuss who is doing what; they don’t need to. Hajime enjoys topping because the idea of doling out pleasure is a heady one and Tobio is fine either way, but here and there, something almost savage oozes out. When it does, Hajime knows what Tobio craves, and he’s happy to give it.

Callused digits slip inside him, the rough pads of Tobio’s fingers sending bolts of pure sensation throughout Hajime’s entire abdomen. Even with lubrication, years of hard work can’t be slicked away from Tobio’s hands.

The motions aren’t gentle or slow, and each one makes Hajime tremble against the mattress. Urgency simmers in his belly, and when Tobio finally buries himself inside, a throaty moan tears out of Hajime’s chest.

“Fuck, Tobio,” Hajime wheezes, his legs curling around Tobio’s hips to trap him there while his body adjusts. “This is one hell of a thing to wake up to.”

Tobio snares a kiss before he murmurs, “Tell me what you want.”

A crooked smile teases on Hajime’s lips as he frames Tobio’s face in his hands. “Just you.”

Their mouths collide when Tobio’s cock churns inside Hajime. The pace is brisk and it takes Hajime’s breath away, but the need coiled in his gut begs for more.

Hajime’s arousal, pinned between their torsos, aches for attention, and Tobio doesn’t let it go unnoticed. His hand works the length of Hajime’s oversensitive cock in time with his thrusts

Coming with a growl, Hajime’s insides cinch around Tobio until he soon follows. 

Both of them gasp for air when Tobio rolls them over to splay Hajime’s sated limbs atop him. Hajime’s lips brush against Tobio’s and melts into his warm, solid form. “I think I need a shower.”

A smile twitches at the corner of Tobio’s mouth. “We could stay in there all day.”

“Or just stay here.” But even as he says it, Hajime winces. “Or not. I think my pubes are starting to glue together.”

Tobio wrinkles his nose even while he scrapes them both out of bed and Hajime into his careful embrace. 

Does Hajime need to be carried anywhere? Not in the least. Does he appreciate the way Tobio’s previously brutish grip slips into one of tenderness? Absolutely.


End file.
